The first installment of this prolific series has had long lasting effects.
I remember when I first received the game. It was donated from one of my father's friends. I can't be sure now who it was, and the mystery of this previous owner only added to my sense of purpose. The cartridge was silver and relucent, so starkly different from the muted gray of every other game I owned. And inside the weathered box was a map, the signs of use in the wrinkles and tears mended with stotch tape. Most importantly, there were notes scattered around the map: I could find meat hidden here beneath this rock; the entrance to another dungeon across this bridge, 100 rupees to buy the raft to get from that bridge to the other shore---beneath this bush.
I was continuing an unwon quest. The map contained every screen of the over-world landscape. It did not show the under-world, the dungeons. On the back of the map, there were spaces for the player to complete their own maps of these dungeons, and only a few had been filled in by this mysterious ancestor player. It didn't matter that the notes were sometimes wrong. This only added to my belief that I would be the one to complete this journey.
I didn't complete the journey; not in my parent's basement anyway. This game required an immence amount of patience, and the tasks were not always clear. The player must be prepared to wander, and search with no results. Added to this was the unpredictability of NES cartridges after several years of use. My friends and I never assumed that we would play the game we wanted on the first try. Part of the experience was getting it to work. We would run through teh list of cleaning methods we had accumulated: No, you must blow this way; No, you must put teh cartridge in this way; No, it isn't the game---It's your system! (That one always hurt.)
I took my NES and games with me to my freshman dorm. And surprise! I wasn't the only freshman nostalgic for the original Nintendo. A friend of mine finally beat the original Mario, and I beat it myself sometime later (believing now that it was possible). And with my map, I completed Zelda, guided by the notes of that mystery owner, the notes I left as a child, and the notes I filled in as I completed the game.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
My Gaming History
From our discussion on the the eight myths of gaming, there were a few points that stood out to me. Although I enjoy video games, and have a long personal history starting with the first Nintendo, and dispite the fact that I embraced the potential for gaming in education, I still avoided writing this reflection, and I at most skimmed through the articles related to this theme.
?So, the question I present to myself here: Why would someone with a stake in this topic resist considering it? Furthermore, what must be done to include those ardently opposed in this conversation?
There were a few points brought up by our discussion as we considered What must be done to change the conversation about gaming? Here are a few of points that stood out to me:
-Language: We must develop a language for discussing what games do, and what gamers do when playing.
-Are video games art: We must develop a critical means of discussing good and bad games. After all, we don't question the validity of film every time a sequel to the Saw series comes out.
-Puritan fear of addiction: The Puritan belief that goodness can only result from hard work, and anything less is a sin and must be shamed. The prof. suggested the example of early American resistance to gambling.
This fear of addiction rang painfully true to my understanding of myself as a gamer. I know that there are certain games that when I start playing, I will not be able to stop. When I have a free moment, I will be playing, until I have completed the game. This is the reason why I have resisted buying any of the new Zelda titles for Wii.
This is a lot like AA's approach to drinking: One must recognize that one has a disease. One must avoid all triggers of the disease (Including friends and family who drink, and all situations where drinking is present).
For me, each of these elements maintained a sort of quiet apprehension to gaming. I couldn't talk about what was good or bad about particular games, or what happens when I do play, and I maintained a fear that I couldn't play "responsibly."
?So, the question I present to myself here: Why would someone with a stake in this topic resist considering it? Furthermore, what must be done to include those ardently opposed in this conversation?
There were a few points brought up by our discussion as we considered What must be done to change the conversation about gaming? Here are a few of points that stood out to me:
-Language: We must develop a language for discussing what games do, and what gamers do when playing.
-Are video games art: We must develop a critical means of discussing good and bad games. After all, we don't question the validity of film every time a sequel to the Saw series comes out.
-Puritan fear of addiction: The Puritan belief that goodness can only result from hard work, and anything less is a sin and must be shamed. The prof. suggested the example of early American resistance to gambling.
This fear of addiction rang painfully true to my understanding of myself as a gamer. I know that there are certain games that when I start playing, I will not be able to stop. When I have a free moment, I will be playing, until I have completed the game. This is the reason why I have resisted buying any of the new Zelda titles for Wii.
This is a lot like AA's approach to drinking: One must recognize that one has a disease. One must avoid all triggers of the disease (Including friends and family who drink, and all situations where drinking is present).
For me, each of these elements maintained a sort of quiet apprehension to gaming. I couldn't talk about what was good or bad about particular games, or what happens when I do play, and I maintained a fear that I couldn't play "responsibly."
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